


Exposed

by deux_lunes



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deux_lunes/pseuds/deux_lunes
Summary: John and Paul pose nude for Stuart and Klaus.Originally posted on Livejournal.





	Exposed

“Just take off your clothes and put ‘em over there.” Stuart gestured vaguely at the corner of the room, and I grinned as I did was I was told. Shirt shrugged off and trousers wriggled out of, I was naked as a bird. The cool air on my body was good; I shook like a dog with pleasure. Paul was more resistant.

“I don’t see why you need _nude_ models,” he said. He was practically covering his still clothed-chest like a girl. “That seems right queer to me.”

“Nut up and strip!” I commanded. Grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, I pulled it over his head while he squawked at me.

“Paul, the male body is a thing of beauty,” Klaus said, arranging the set we were to pose on. “Stuart and I wanted to capture it. You agreed to model for us, but if you really don’t want to pose nude…”

“I, I dunno, I guess I’m just—John!” Paul’s trousers now pooled around his ankles and my hands still gripped them as I squatted behind him; he hadn’t worn underpants today either.

Stuart, Klaus and I laughed as Paul tried to clock me, blushing and blustering all the while. “Come on, Macca,” I cooed. “You’re already naked now, and it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“Their fucking sketchbooks haven’t seen it before,” he spat, but I knew he was already resigned to doing it. The beginnings of arousal tickled my stomach—I knew I had seen Paul naked before, but it was always furtive, quick. A not-supposed-to look, but we both knew that we both did. But now, an excuse to be naked with Paul. He plopped that perfect ass onto the box provided for us, hands between his legs. His eyes flashed; he wanted me to know that he could do anything I could. He wouldn’t let me win.

“How do you want us?” he asked—he sounded confident; he sounded bored. It was a lie, but God if it didn’t sound convincing.

“Uh, Paul, you’re good on the box. But kind of lean back on your arms. That’s good.” Stuart gestured to me, and I realized that I had to stop staring at Paul. “John, I want you to sit between Paul’s legs on the floor.”

Paul gaped at him. “I knew this was bloody queer!”

Stuart flushed. “Not… _between_, just in front of. In the middle of.” 

I couldn’t speak—I was too focused on not showing my arousal. Apparently this was why most models are female. I padded over to Paul, pulling a spastic face to put both of us at ease. He laughed, and I settled in front of him. If I shifted my eyes right, I could see his face, him licking his lips with anticipation. I could see his prick. 

Klaus dropped the needle on the record player and Buddy Holly filled the studio. The two of them sat on opposite sides of the room, quietly sketching Paul’s and my bodies, every minutia of us. They hadn’t told us not to talk, but we didn’t anyway. It just didn’t feel right. I occupied myself with glances at Paul’s body—I needed to memorize it. Paul had a freckle at his knee. I needed to press my lips to that freckle. That little pigmentation in one of Paul’s most hidden spots. I knew you now. I might be the only one who ever does. You’re mine.

“John, can you keep your head in one spot, please?” Klaus asked.

“It’s bloody hard to keep still for so long!” I snapped, embarrassed that my love affair with Paul’s freckle had been exposed.

“We’ve only been sitting for about fifteen minutes, John,” Paul said, looking down at me. 

“Feels like eternity,” I muttered. “Why didn’t you fuckers take up photography like Astrid? One click and we can move again.”

“You want me to call her, John?” Stuart asked. “She can come take photos as well.” 

“Don’t you bleeding dare!” I could feel Paul’s body tighten as he yelled at Stuart, heat flaring into me.

Klaus sighed. “Let’s change position then, shall we? John, sit on the box with Paul. Lean your backs together.”

I stood. Paul’s lips flattened together and his eyebrows knit, but he said no more words about how queer this was. He made room for me on the box, but our asses still brushed together. We both shivered.

The artists went back to sketching. I couldn’t see Paul anymore but to feel him, God, to _feel_ him. His breaths were shallow; his skin hot and dry. I forced myself to keep still, to learn how Paul’s body felt against me. Eyes closed, his breaths sounded like the rhythm of the music and I tried to match him. We breathed at the same time.

I know he noticed because he squirmed against me. His breath upped its tempo; our shoulders brushed together. The fringes of his hair brushed against my neck, and I adjusted my head slightly so I could breath his scent. Cigarettes, sweat and cheap cologne, the one I had shoplifted for him. “You smell like rubbish,” I had said, but it was only so he would smell of me.

“John,” he whispered. I shivered again, and rubbed our heads together. It was his turn to shiver. The bristles of our hair crackled quietly between us, and I had never wanted to press my lips to his neck more. Despite everything telling me what a bad idea it was, I let my hand wander behind me to touch him. My fingers stroked his hip, but he didn’t tell me to stop. He didn’t slap my hand away. He made a noise. It was a good noise.

Another noise interrupted us. Klaus coughed again, and I ripped my hand away from Paul’s hip, humiliated rage bubbling. “Do you want to try maybe another position?” he asked.

“What did you have in mind?” Paul’s voice was deeper. 

“Turn around and look at each other,” Stuart instructed.

Paul and I adjusted ourselves on the box, eventually sitting so our legs straddled the sides, our cocks and faces only inches apart from each other’s. He stared into my eyes, nervous but happy. His eyes flashed again. Bedroom eyes, I had always heard them called. 

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hullo, Paul,” I whispered back and he laughed under his breath. He was so close I could feel his air on my lips. If I only leaned forward an inch…

“This is weird, isn’t it?” He glanced at me again, searching for my agreement… for my approval of this situation.

“I like it.”

His wide, rabbit-toothed grin broke out at me. “I like it too, John.”

I smirked at him and took his hand into mine. He didn’t complain. I squeezed him, but he still didn’t tell me to stop. I interlaced our fingers. Nothing but a shy smile. 

A clatter came from the artists’ area; Klaus had dropped his pencil. He was the picture definition of shock, but Stuart was unruffled—he stared at us with artist’s calm. If this unfolding of events surprised him at all, he did not let it show. The only hint that he had an opinion on this at all was the curl at the edges of his lips. He knew, I realized, he knew how I felt about Paul.

Paul, self-conscious, tugged his hand from mine; his face was ashen stone. “Are you about ready to call it a day?” he asked no one in particular.

“Let’s take a break,” Klaus said, standing. “I think a break would do us all good, _ja_?” 

No one responded, but Paul stood as well, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could. “I need some air.” In seconds, he was gone.

Klaus followed, mumbling something about using the facilities, and it was just Stuart and me. I still sat naked on the box and Stuart joined me.

“Did I fuck up, Stu?” I smiled, self-deprecation painted over my face. “I have a tendency to do that without realizing it.”

“You didn’t fuck up.” Stuart rubbed my bare shoulder, where Paul had only moments ago been. “He’ll come around soon enough.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “No, fuck, he just thinks I’m a bloody poof now!”

Stuart’s artist fingers brushed the nape of my neck. “John, look at this.” He pushed his sketchbook into my lap and I peeked through my fingers. The lines of Paul and myself sprang from the paper, love and desire emanating from both of us. The space that had been between us in real life didn’t exist here—there was no way to tell where Paul began and I ended. 

“That’s why I saw,” Stuart said. “Klaus saw it too. We know Paul saw it. It’s just that sometimes you see a work of art that so impacts you, it frightens you at first. Not everyone can embrace it the first time they see it.” He patted me on the back. “I’m going for a cuppa. You want one?”

I nodded—the words that never failed me just had. Stuart just smiled at me and left me with his sketchbook. I traced us with my finger, and was left with only graphite dust.

The door creaked, and Paul entered cautiously. “Haven’t you dressed yet?”

“No, I quite like it. I may never wear clothes again. It may be a bit chilly come winter though. Perhaps I’ll grow a beard.”

He let out a single laugh; I could tell he didn’t have anything he could really say to me. I didn’t have anything I could really say to him.

“Is that Stu’s book?”

I nodded, and he approached me, sitting down once again and looking at the book in my hands. I looked at his face—it was transformed with the beauty that was the two of us.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Is that really how he saw us?”

“Do you like it?” Do you like me, Paul? Do you like us?

He raised his head to meet my eyes once again, dark and confused. “I do, John.”

I set the book on the floor and took Paul’s hand once again. Though I was naked and he was clothed, there was no inequality to us. We were scared; we were two explorers on the verge of something very new. It was up to one of us to take the first step. I kissed him. 

He didn’t kiss back, but he remained, lips soft and pliant under mine. After a few seconds, I pulled back, but he came to life and pressed his lips to mine. I adjusted my head, licking at his lips and he accepted me, our tongues gliding together. His fingers ran through my hair, and I deepened our kiss, trying to tell him, _this is what you mean to me. This is how I love you._

We finally pulled apart to breathe; his lips were red and wet and mine must have looked the same because he kept glancing at them. 

“I liked that,” I whispered—I didn’t think I could speak any louder.

That rabbit grin appeared again, as did the rapid pounding of my heart. “So did I.”

The stairs leading to the studio creaked beneath the weight of our two friends, and Paul and I pulled apart, knowing we would find ourselves together in just a few moments. Silently, Paul stripped before Stuart and Klaus arrived, standing naked before me. _This is me for you_, he told me. _No one else will be able to see this._ He sat beside me as the other men entered. We were ready to proceed.


End file.
